Pissed
by Sicil
Summary: New chapter up. Chichiri finds that tutoring isn't as easy as it looks.
1. Pissed

And this ficcy holds the record for shortest time ficcy I have ever written . . . less than an hour!  o.o;;;;;  **Mochi** was feeling down and stuff about her school and marks, and I decided to cheer her up.  Well, it didn't turn out the way that I expected it to, but she says she is properly cheered.  So!  *happy happy*  Another ficcy from me!

_Warning.  This sorta dark.  Kinda dark.  Ok, maybe really dark.  No sex whatsoever (*hears booing*  ^^;), just moody, angsty, dark stuff.  'Nuff said.****_

Pissed 

*****

Tasuki was pissed.

And it wasn't just the vaguely annoyed at something that had gone wrong in the day which started the whole cascade of other shit.  It was the "pissed-off-right-this-moment"; the kind that caused this empty, insatiable raging in the pit of your stomach.  The kind that tore you up from inside with all claws and fangs and nothing tangible.  The kind that keeps you wishing everything would just go to hell and never come back.

Yeah, that kind.

Tasuki wasn't a very good person when he was dealing with that kind of pissed.

He was _this_ close, and then some, from springing out of his desk and throttling the teacher dozing behind his desk.  He was even closer, and then some, of doing worse to the loudmouthed, self-obnoxious idiot behind him.  In fact, he would probably leave hand imprints on the desk, the way he was gripping it.

This was not fucking fair.

So he wasn't the brightest person on the block, not compared to some of the friggin' geniuses this class had to boast.  Like that guy sitting by himself in the corner.  Yeah, he was sure that _he_ got all the high marks, but _he _didn't feel the need to broadcast his superiourity to the whole world now, did he?  Not like this other ass practically slobbering over his domain of lesser, stupider creatures.  Which, not so incidentally, included him.

He didn't like it at all.

"Well the basic, _basic_-- and I stress the basic-- part of understanding the fundamentals of this course is your knowledge of these formulas, in my personal advice, _this_ one and _this_ one . . ."

He tried to hide the grimace.  Can't blame him for failing that test if the teacher was a toad with shoes and the only other source of "getting it" meant spending hours listening to this self-obnoxious pig talk about his lifetime's achievements.

" . . . Tasuki, are you listening to me?  You sure are going to be sorry, when you fail yet _another test . . ."_

Tasuki clenched his teeth together hard.  He didn't turn around to face _him_ and his followers, instead muttered, "I'm fine, thanks."  No small feat through clenched teeth.

The guy didn't know when to quit.  "Oh, you _know_ you'll be bitching and complaining at me when you _do_ fail it.  I mean, how can you not get anywhere near passing without some of my personal assistance . . ."

That did it.  He whipped his head back and pinned the ass under a glare.  "Fuck off.  I don't need your self-centered _help_.  I'll do just fine on my own.  Thank you."  He turned away.

Behind him he could hear lots of angry little squeaks.  And the answering mutterings of his devoted little following.  Tasuki snorted.  Bring it all on.  Nothing he couldn't handle.

Then all the insults started coming in.  Loads of ugly, ugly things, just within the scope of his hearing but certainly never reaching the ears of the professor.  Who would have done nothing if he had been awake, anyway.  It started with his intelligence, appearance, general attitude . . . and all went downhill from there.  'Fine.  Whatever the crap you wanna say.  I can take it, damn you little fuckers."

Then it came in the middle of that train of thought; a dirty, angry, hissing whisper.  _"You . . . you-- damned little faggot . . ."_

He froze right there, too shocked for a moment to properly let that go through his mind.  And by then it was too late:  the others had already joined in.

_"Yeah, little cocksucker . . ."_  _"Fag."  "Probably wants it so bad . . ."  "From a man!"  "Freak."  "Gonna pound your little shit-face into the ground . . ."_

He couldn't think.  Couldn't act at all.  The bell rang, and he was stumbling out of his seat before he knew it.  _'Want--'_

No.

Walking out of the room as fast as he could, books hanging dangerously from one hand.  _'Need--'_  Walking, stumbling, _fuck_, running through the hall.  Didn't care.  Didn't want to care.  _'to . . .'_

No.

Out the door now, brilliant sunlight hitting his face, blinding him.  But it didn't matter.  He was already blinded.  _'Got to . . .'_

No.  No.  No.

Blinded by pure, white-hot rage.

_'Fucking-- kill-- THEM.  Need-- fucking-- BASTARDS!'_  Slam his fists against the side of his car.  That was fine.  His car was old, wouldn't feel it._  He_ didn't feel anything but the rage.  Consuming him.  A terrible rage from deep within.  Fire.  That's it.  He was on fire.

Fuck.

Slowly.  _Slowly._  Agonizingly slow, the kind that takes effort simply breathing in and out.  The fire painstakingly quenched, flame by desperate flame.  And then, it was under control again.  _He_ was under control again.

"Hey."

'Oh fuck not this, not _now_.'  He started searching, almost wearily, for an escape.

"Are you all right?"

He turned, and met eyes of compassionate mahogany brown.  Let out a shaky breath that he had been holding.  "Yeah."

The other man held his hand out.  "I'm Houjun.  Ri Houjun."  Oh right.  The quiet guy in the corner who got the high marks, yet never bragged about them.  He had a beautiful smile.

"I'm your new tutor."

And to Tasuki, that made more sense than anything in the world.  He smiled-- and grasped the other's hand, firmly.

As the two men talked, got into Tasuki's car and drove off for a studying session . . .

 . . . a gathering crowd began to form around five figures, sprawled out one after the other, like a pile of dominos.  Battered, bloody in nose and face, breathing rapid and harsh.  And with utter, dominating fear in their eyes.  Something time could never erase.

Fear.

*****

C & C much obliged.

* * *


	2. Irritated

_A short little ficcy long after the time I should be sleeping.  Shall work on my other stuff soon, but for now, enjoy this one.  As always, comments appreciated._ Pissed 

*****

"I don't get it."

Oh no, not another temper tantrum.  Spare him of that.

"I don't fuckin' get it."

Great.  Just great.  Barely into the third tutorial period and he was already getting a huge, throbbing ache in his left temple.  And a frustrated, too-attractive man glaring at him impatiently.

He was starting to get irritated.

"I.  Don't.  Fuckin'.  Get.  It."

'I heard you the first time,' Houjun thought.  'And it was much more effective without the swear.'  He calmly returned the dark stare and crossed his arms.  Already, he had stopped hoping they would get anything done in the hour.

He was Ri Houjun, an honours student in his fourth year, about to advance into the complicated and technical world of engineering science.  He could handle difficult equations and long words both.  He could handle beating four completely lack-witted heads into the ground, ones who had dared to stir his anger.

But he doubted he could handle Tasuki.

The reason probably lay in the fact that Tasuki didn't _want_ to be handled, but that was irrelevant.  Houjun got immensely aggravated when he came to the knowledge that he couldn't handle something.  To him, that tasted too much like failure.  And failure he could not have.

Ok.  Take a deep breath-- inhale, exhale.  See, he's only trying to goad you into exploding in his face, and then there would be two idiots in the room.

But that didn't stop him from being irritated.

With much effort, he broke the staring contest and tapped on the open physics book in front of him.  He would deal with this rationally and not let the other drive him into irritation.  "Look at the question again."  Note the tone-- smooth, placating, the essence of wisdom and logic.

Tasuki plunked down beside him sullenly and tried again.  For about five more minutes.

Score, a new record.

And then the cycle began all over again.  So, reasonably, Houjun used the exact same words to calm the younger man and expected exactly the same result.

Which didn't happen.

After the first lucid curses, Houjun started to wonder whether he should close the windows or not.  Then he stopped wondering, as Tasuki's voice rose to decimals clearly heard, windows or no.

Look, the child is throwing a tantrum.  Ignore him for a while and surely he'll run out of breath and determination.  Methodical, patient Houjun decided to let him vent out his frustrations, so he sat comfortably in his chair, waiting for it to stop.  Only it didn't stop.  Tasuki went on and on, about the course, the textbook, the teacher teaching it-- in such great terms and detail and Houjun's cheeks turned an embarrassed red.

When there seemed no ebbing to the flow, Houjun stood up.  "That's enough.  Let us continue," he said in his best icy tones, which never seemed to fail him.  There's a first time for everything.  Tasuki continued his rantings without any pause.

Houjun heaved a sigh and went to stand in front of the younger student.  "Look Tasuki, there really isn't any need--"

"--freakin' _idiotic_, doesn't even know the difference between--"

"--let's just settle down and look--"

"--wonder what kinda parents would raise such a--"

"--this is quite simple, if you use--"

"--ten bucks his mumma was--"

Horrified, he cut off that one before it even started.  "SHUT UP!!!" he shouted at the top of his lungs.  Tasuki threw one surprised look at him.  And started up again before the silence even had time to echo.

This was _past_ tolerance.  He had half a mind to throw Tasuki out in mid-rant, but-- wouldn't that mean that he had failed at something?  Tutor another student, as minor as it was?  No no, failure wasn't a good thing.  There must be some way out of this situation.  Look at the problem . . .  Step number one, stop Tasuki from shouting.  How was he supposed to do that?  But he had to take the first step, or this man would be screaming all night at his apartment.

Houjun stormed right over, roughly turned the younger student around by the shoulders, and-- and-- _kissed_ him.

The seconds ticked by.  Tasuki's hands slowly unclenched, dropped down to his sides.  Houjun stepped away.

"Now," he said, composed, trying not to notice Tasuki's utterly flabbergasted expression, "Shall we continue?"

He wasn't irritated anymore.


End file.
